


Carnal Knowledge

by badwolfofbakerstreet



Series: Unforgettable Moments [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crazy, Dark, Ew, I Don't Even Know, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Oneshot, Present Tense, Smut, Video feeds, Who, mormor, please help me, so wrong, what, what?, when, where, why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 15:41:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4065421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfofbakerstreet/pseuds/badwolfofbakerstreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Moriarty has a plan, a plan he needs Sebastian Moran (his right hand man) to help him with. He has to push Sherlock Holmes and John Watson together, why you ask? Because you have to have something in order to lose it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carnal Knowledge

**Author's Note:**

> Um, this is a thing... I don't even know where I got the idea. It just came to me. It's a bit strange and bit more graphic than I usually do. 
> 
> It's also in present tense. I'm experimenting. 
> 
> Please let me know. It's a bit darker? And the POV is all over the place. 
> 
> It's also a bit more than JUST sexy stuff.
> 
> But hopefully it's not hard to follow!!!! 
> 
> But yeah, let me know.

He sees them through binoculars for the first time, running after his cabbie, they stop and laugh, he scoffs, how mundane they must be. He's sure it'll be no time before they're shagging like school boys. 

 He pities them when it doesn't happen. _They're idiots_. 

 He doesn't see them up close for quite a while. What fun it will be to impersonate a gay IT guy who's trying to shag the boring mouse of a woman they call their friend. Well the short one calls their friend. 

 He can feel that ones eyes boring into his back as he plays part in a small experiment. He gets close to the angel, too close for the soldiers liking he can tell. Oh how fun it is to mess with silly little minds. They're so fixated on their own basic urges that they can't help but claim something mentally that they've hardly touched physically. The brain can be such a tricky organ for those who don't understand its power. 

 He watched through his nifty and well placed camera as his two new favorite subjects fight. The small one leaves, allowing the big one to brood. He'd help them out soon, but it wouldn't be him. No, he'd have to reveal himself. He’s getting tired of watching and not playing. It’s time for him to reveal himself as front runner in their rat race. 

 When the imminent death doesn't push them together, he gets creative.

 The Woman builds the initial tension between the two men, but even that doesn’t get them together. It’s time to send out his best assassin, second in command, to play a part and get the two of them together at last. 

 "Boss, can I ask why you're doing this?" Sebastian asks as he stares at himself in the mirror. His clothing screams homosexual and it fits his body rather nicely. Jim puts that memory aside for later, after the game is over. 

 "I can hurt them through each other, don't you see? If I push them to their max level of closeness, it'll be that much more heartbreaking when they're torn apart." Moriarty smiles his slithering grin and gives Sebastian a friendly pat, sending him off to a bar that he knows Sherlock and his little blogger will be at that night. 'For a case.' Johns blog says, right, well this will be the night when business mixes with pleasure. 

 He watches Sebastian like a hawk via the bars security cameras. Tracks his movement as he carefully places himself as close as he possibly can to the consulting detective and his associate. He feels a twinge of something too human for his liking when Seb 'accidentally' bumps into Sherlock and then casually, too easily, sparks up a conversation. 

 Sebastian stays close to the topic of science. He’s wearing clues to tell Sherlock that he is a rather accomplished biologist studying mold theories. This seems to catch the detectives interest even more. What also catches his attention is that he doesn't shy away from the deductions. He calls them brilliant, something that catches the short blonde mans attention in turn. 

 "Sherlock." John says, eyeing the mysterious man suspiciously, "We've got to get going." He holds up his watch as if it should be a hint. 

 "You go, I'll be along in a bit." Sherlock seems to wave him away, the mystery man smirks down at John, it makes him feel impossibly small. 

 "Yes but the thing with the-"

 "What?" Sherlock turns, obviously annoyed at Johns incessant intrusion into whatever it is he’s trying to do. John huffs but doesn't turn away from Sherlock, no, he won't turn his back and allow the man he... Cares for... Go off with some random trollop in a bar. 

 "Nothing. I was just tired and decided I'd like to go home." John says in a steady, even tone. Sherlock stares, his eyes widening with every second, as if he  is beginning to understand what is happening, "Will you be joining me?" And then he does the unspeakable, he holds out a slightly trembling hand. Sherlock looks from the outstretched limb to the floozy behind him who is smirking strangely and then without another moments thought to over-analyze, he takes Johns' hand and is led out of the bar. 

 As he’s led away from the establishment by his blogger and flat mate by the hand, Sherlocks stomach does somersaults and he isn't sure why. He's never felt this way before. 

 "John..." He says, pulling back so the shorter man stops his frantic walking, he does finally and looks back at Sherlock, his eyes wide as if he’s still trying to assess the situation himself, "What are we-"

 He doesn't have the chance to ask, because John figures it out in that one glance. He moves his eyes from their intertwined hands to Sherlocks face and he knows. He knows exactly what to do. He pulls Sherlock down to meet him by the lapels of his jacket and he kisses him. Before either of them has a chance to figure out what is happening or over think it or anything else, he captures his detectives lips with his own and all else is suddenly forgotten. It’s as if this moment has been put off for far too long.

 John sucks in air through his nose and keeps his lips sealed tight over Sherlock’s, the detective halts for a time, taking a few seconds to figure out what’s happening. He feels John’s wet lips against his and can taste the slight sweet flavor of tea and alcohol, he is sure John can taste his last cigarette and is mentally kicking himself for having it, but he wasn’t aware that this was going to happen. It finally clicks that he should probably participate in the kiss and returns it. His lips slide against his bloggers as they find their perfect spot, his lips covering John’s bottom one and he sucks lightly before pulling back, their eyes still closed. 

 John is the first to open them and he stares up, wide-eyed, at Sherlock, who opens his eyes slowly, as if afraid to see. His cheeks burn at the sight of Sherlock Holmes looking dazed from a kiss, but it is a sight he wants to see always, he decides. 

 Sherlock finds his hand being taken prisoner as he is being led through the streets back to their flat. He can feel the tension beginning to rise as they near the large black door, and doesn’t mind the rush of adrenaline it sends coursing through his veins. This was his most dangerous endeavor yet. 

 They don’t realize they’ve been followed by the man from the bar, who has a phone to his ear and a smile on his face. 

 “Mission accomplished.” He says, but the voice on the other end is not as convinced, he turns to his computer and his video feed for the evidence. He needs them to discover one another, to crave one another, to rely on their new physical relationship. That way he can rip it out from under them. He needs them to suffer. 

 “How many cameras do you have in that place?” Sebastian asks as he climbs into the car that pulls up next to him, Moriarty smiles as he stares down at the screen with multiple feeds up. 

 “A few. One in the sitting room, one in the kitchen, one in Sherlock’s room and one in John’s. I had Miss Adler put them in when she stayed over.” Jim is smiling so wide, Sebastian is afraid his face will split in two. He avoids the grin by staring down at the laptop. He sees Sherlock and John staring at one another, they’ve just walked in through the doorway. Sherlock has just barely gotten his coat off before John crosses the short distance to him and pulls him into his arms. 

 John runs his hands down Sherlock’s back before they move back up and settle on his neck. He pulls the detective back down to him, needing to taste him again. Sherlock is more eager this time, their tongues flicking against one another willingly. Sherlock sighs into the kiss, relishing what is sure to be his new favorite flavor. John’s heart is racing and he’s afraid that Sherlock can feel it, if the detective can, he doesn’t care. All he cares about is that there’s too much fabric between them, too much separating them. He needs to feel the heat from John’s skin, needs to taste it, to see if it’s as sweet as his tongue. 

 His query ventures down to the bared neck before him and he licks at the skin, John shivers as the cold air hits the once tasted spots and shivers harder as Sherlock begins undressing him, kissing after each button popped. He looks down to find the detective has fallen to his knees in his journey to unclothe his blogger; John doesn’t mind, he allows it to happen. 

 Long fingers snake around the belt and pull it free from its denim prison, he then unzips John’s jeans and yanks them down eagerly, almost knocking John over in the process. John laughs and rests his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders, holding him in place. 

 “Hold on, hold on.” John smiles down at the detective, raising his chin with his fingers, he grabs ahold of one of his wrists and pulls him up, “Let’s even things up.” He says and steps out of his jeans, having to kick off his shoes in the process. He then goes to work on Sherlocks button up, undoing the buttons faster than he’s ever done before. His trousers prove to be a bit of a problem. They’re tighter around the zipper than he’s ever seen them before and he’s worried that in the process of unzipping them, he might catch something. 

 Sherlock scoffs and pushes John back, back, back to the couch. The shorter man falls back onto the soft furniture and is treated with the sight of Sherlock removing his own trousers, and he’s then standing there in not but his pants, looking flustered and absolutely beautiful. 

 “You gorgeous thing.” John says, slightly awkwardly, unsure of whether or not Sherlock will appreciate the compliment. He does however and he moves down quickly, kissing lightly at Johns lips before he sets to work on covering every inch of his soldier with kisses. He does the neck rather quickly, but slows when he reaches his torso, taking his time as he crosses his chest, being sure to suck every bump and scary into his mouth. He rolls John’s nipples between his teeth and licks at them, John’s back arches slightly at the sensation, if he wasn’t hard already, he’s sure to be sufficiently erect now.

 Sherlock has fallen to his knees at John’s feet, his arms caressing every inch of the blogger that they can as he kisses his way down the patch of light blonde hair until he reaches the top of his pants. He wastes no time pretending he’s not going to go there. There will by time for teasing later; this is about urges and making up for lost time, this is about them. 

 He yanks at John’s pants and John lifts slightly to allow Sherlock to pull them down and he gasps when he feels the detective swallow him whole. He wasn’t ready for it and it takes all the self control he has not to come right then. His hands grip at Sherlock’s curls as he holds back and steadies himself. A small moan escaping in all his effort at controlling his lower half. 

 Sherlock glances up at John and he decides he’s never seen a more beautiful sight. Though he’s sure he’ll be thinking that a lot tonight. Sherlock hums around him and looks back downward, focussing on the task at hand. His hand in question finds its way up John’s body until it reaches his mouth, John takes it and sucks on a couple of his fingers; he rolls his tongue around the index and middle, mimicking the exact motions Sherlock is currently doing. Sherlock moans around him and somewhere down by his feet he can feel something slick hit his shin. 

 The thought of Sherlock getting off simply by pleasing him is enough to make John finish; he comes hot and hard into Sherlock’s mouth, not before a warning of course. Sherlock rolls with the waves, swallowing every last bit that John has to offer and when he looks up at John, his face red, his tongue licking at his lips, his lids heavy, it’s enough to make the blogger ready to go again. Though he realizes it’s Sherlock’s turn and he pulls him up onto the couch, flipping him over, which surprises the detective. 

 With all his deductive powers he’d never have guessed that John would be kissing his back and licking his way down. 

 “Well would you look at that!” Moriarty exclaims, snapping Sebastian out of his reverie, he may have been watching Sherlock and John, but he’s been imagining someone else. He looks at Jim. 

 “What?” He asks, slightly uncomfortable.

 “Right there on the couch.” Moriarty shakes his head, “It’s disgraceful!” 

 “What do you care?” Seb asks, Jim shrugs.

 “I don’t. I just think it’s hilarious. Am I not allowed to find something funny?” He looks at his second in command and raises his brows, Sebastian backs down, shaking his head.

 “Yeah, you are.” He says, swallowing thickly.

 “Does this do anything for you, Sebastian? Watching two men go at it on a couch?” Jim’s tone is playful, but also full of questioning; he really wants to know.

 “Why?” 

 “I’m just interested. I don’t get sexual urges, I’m above that. But if I did, I suppose something like this might do it for me.” Jim sighs and turns back to the screen, “I’m bored now.”

 “But it’s what you wanted.” Sebastian says, confused.

 “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I have to watch it.” He closes the laptop and turns to Sebastian, a finger trails down his front, “Unless of course you want to.” 

 “Don’t be absurd!” Sebastian says, removing Moriarty’s hand from the front of him. 

 “Oh come now, Sebby, you’re attracted to me, I can tell.” Jim’s grin is wicked as he turns fully towards Sebastian who flinches at the nick name. Moriarty’s twisted sense of humor shows itself at the most inopportune moments. The name his dead mother used to call him is not something he wants to hear right now.

 “Don’t call me that.” Sebastian snaps, turning his face away from the consulting criminal.

 “What shall I call you then?” Jim asks, his lips dangerously close to the assassins ear. 

 “What are you doing?” He asks, shivers running through him at Moriarty’s close proximity. 

 “Experimenting.” He whispers, his tongue darting out to taste Sebastian’s ear. The last thing Sebastian remembers before he turns into those lips is the laptop opening back up and seeing Sherlock on his back, his legs over John’s shoulders; the rest is a blur.

 It’s a few months before Moriarty can enact his full plan. Sherlock and John have been sleeping together steadily now for months. It’s time for him to go through with everything that’s been leading up to this point. 

 As Sebastian sits across from St. Bart’s hospital, pointing his rifle at John Watson, he can’t help but feel slightly guilty. The man is staring up at his best friend/lover, a phone to his ear, and it looks as if he’s about to jump. Which, if Jim’s plan worked, he is. 

 “Sherlock!” John shouts and begins running towards the building but is knocked over. He sees Sherlock fly into a large blue airbag and by the time John is up, it’s gone and it looks as if Sherlock’s suicide attempt has succeeded. He’s confused as to why Jim hasn’t called him and told him to take the shot, so he begins to aim.

 “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” A posh voice says from behind him, “If you pull that trigger, you’ll be dead within seconds.” Sebastian turns to see Mycroft Holmes behind him, leaning on his umbrella. 

 “What have you done?” He asks, knowing this can only mean one thing, Jim Moriarty is dead.

 “Nothing. He shot himself.” Mycroft says, his brows raised. 

 “I don’t believe you.” Sebastian says, though he can feel that it’s the truth. He begins to break down his gun. He catches a glimpse of a catatonic John being pulled away from the not-so-dead Sherlock.

 “It’s funny, isn’t it...” Mycroft says, noting how Sebastian’s breathing seems to speed up as he watches John, “How Moriarty’s plan to bring my brother and his flat mate together romantically also extended to himself and you.” 

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sebastian stands and turns, his bag in his hand, he’s ready to leave.

 “Right.” Mycroft snorts and turns, “Keep telling yourself that, won’t you.” He walks through the doors of the stairwell and Sebastian thinks he’s home free, until he’s having a bag thrown over his head and his gun is nowhere to be found. 

He doesn’t see daylight again for he doesn’t know how long. He’s in a room, tied to a chair, the light is streaming in through the window and Sherlock Holmes is standing over him. He’s grown a beard and his hair is disheveled. He looks tired. 

 “Good morning, Sebastian.” Sherlock says, smirking, he’s playing with a knife. 

 “Sherlock.” Sebastian says.

 “You’re the player no one knew about.” Sherlock is pacing back and forth in front of him, obviously trying to threaten him without having to make him bleed. Sebastian doesn’t care, the man he was loyal to is dead.

 “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” He sighs, Sherlock stops and stares, his eyes finding more than Sebastian wants him to, but he can’t bring himself to worry about it. 

 “Interesting.” Sherlock comments and shrugs, “Did Moriarty know?” 

 “Know what?” 

 “That you loved him.” 

 “S’not past tense.” Sebastian winces as he confesses this. 

 “You know he’s dead.” Sherlock’s tone holds no pity nor concern.

 “Yeah.”

 “Interesting.” Sherlock taps the knife to his lips.

 “You think Watson’s stopped loving you because you’re dead?” Sherlock’s eyes widen and then something like relief flashes across his features. 

 “I suppose not.” 

 “Will you just kill me and get it over with?” Sebastian says, Sherlock’s smirk returns.

 “Oh we’re not going to kill you, Mr. Moran.” Sherlock walks forward and cuts his restraints. 

 He sees the inside of that room for the better part of two years. It isn’t until there’s a strange commotion outside the doors and gun shots that he feels something akin to hope. The door soon flies open and he looks up, unaccustomed to seeing people. 

 “You look like shit.” An all too familiar voice says, Sebastian blinks as he stares at him. Moriarty, in front of him, as glorious as ever, “Miss me?” 

He smirks, Sebastian does too. There’s a storm coming and Sherlock Holmes knows nothing about it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Won't be trying THAT again!


End file.
